


I thought I'd never find you (when suddenly I saw you)

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonus: Raven and Wick have a son!, Camp with cabins, F/M, Future Fic, Headcanon to fanfic, I really wanna marry you but I need to visit an old friend of mine, Inspired by The Notebook but not a full AU, Reunions, Sexual Content, post 2x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Dialogue and storyline inspired by The Notebook)</p><p>This was originally a headcanon: Clarke leaves after the battle at Mount Weather. Years pass, and eventually she gets engaged to a grounder and settle to have a new life in his village.<br/>But just before her wedding she decides to visit her old people, which isn’t a secret for long: She discovers that Bellamy Blake, her former co-leader and the guy she promised to come back to, has build a beautiful cabin for her.<br/>He hasn’t changed much though… Old feelings blossom; this leads to an affair that she can’t control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I thought I'd never find you (when suddenly I saw you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brianna (raven-wick on Tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Brianna+%28raven-wick+on+Tumblr%29).



On the fourth night after Clarke’s engagement, she dreamt about Bellamy Blake, that being the first time in five years that he showed up before her, no words upon his lips because she honestly couldn’t picture how his voice sounded now. But his gaze; those eyes were like carved into her mind, impossible to shake off, let alone forget, holding enough emotion to wreck mountains. That was what began to haunt her during the following days, at the most random times even. She didn’t know what she was feeling; yet it was worrying her.

“Are you okay?” Partly absent-minded, George finally questioned her lack of ambition towards the wedding planning that they had indulged themselves in. 

“Yeah,” her eyes wandering, she hesitated slightly to continue, still making up her mind with doubt relentlessly bothering her, “I just feel like I need to get away for a couple of days, you know?”

George raised his eyebrows, suddenly frowning a little, “Get away? Where to?” Honestly, you couldn’t blame him for finding it weird, because since the day he had brought her to the village she had not showed a single interest in leaving. He was aware that a time like that would eventually come, however for it to be right after their engagement was not what he exactly had expected. 

“To see my mother. I think I need to look back,” turning around, she cradled his serious face in her hands, “don’t worry. It won’t be long,” 

Prior to George finding her, she had lived in the woods, surviving on whatever animals she could hunt down - with time, she had grown rather good skills (it’s surprising how many new things you are capable of learning if it is your only choice). Kissing her fiancé on the cheek felt slightly odd, so without further goodbye she went to her horse, mentally preparing for the journey back to Camp Jaha.

 

Even thinking about stepping through that gate caused fear to fill her veins, and her thoughts were a blur during the entire ride, confusing but also mostly irrelevant. More than once, her mind went over the idea of turning back, picturing all of their faces clearly. She would quite possibly be greeted by lots of hatred, dislike at the least, being a traitor; selfish and weak, breaking promises…

 

~*~

Taking her first step though the gate to her _past,_ Clarke couldn’t believe it: _Have I gotten to the wrong camp? Am I lost?_

Because the view in front of her could not be real: tents having been replaced by wooden cabins with The Fallen Ark as centre. No guards were standing at the gate on watch, and judging by the look of the few people that she could see from here, it seemed as if fear of war was currently the last thing on their minds.

 

_This was the dream._

 

Whilst her eyes travelled from place to place, Clarke hardly noticed the kid standing at her feet before he literally pulled at her sleeve: “Excuse me, have you seen my mom?” Baffled, Clarke found herself staring at him: Dark eyes and wavy, dirty blonde hair, tanned skin - was this…? It looked like… 

“Dylan! If you want to-“ Stunned, a five-year-older Raven stopped in her tracks to stare at the former leader who was still standing as if petrified at the gate, both of the women’s’ jaws slacking as: “Clarke…” escaped Raven’s lips, much in disbelief. For another long moment, Clarke tried all her best to force a smile - an action, which was a lot harder than it normally was.

Dylan, the small boy, gaped up at Clarke, furrowing his eyebrows adorably before he grinned, which actually turned out to be contagious, causing the former leader to smile, shockingly heartfelt, also it appeared to wake The Mechanic up, because she pulled Clarke in close for a hug, a new brace on her leg making it very much easier for her to move forward. It was an awkward embrace with the feel of standing thousands of miles apart. But Raven clearly didn’t want to be angry right then: “Clarke, this is - my son, Dylan,” after receiving a single glare from his mother, the boy politely shook Clarke’s hand, yet she bended down to hug him. Given that it was somehow almost unnecessary to ask, she found another more suiting way to put it: “He looks so much like Wick,”

The first real smile made its way to Raven’s lips at that, and she nodded happily in agreement. After brief silence she told Dylan to go find his dad (apparently they had their own shop where Wick would make shit for Raven to blow up: _“I can make it go boom,”_ ). 

“So what have you been up to, you know the last five years?” The bitterness in her voice could not be clearer, making Clarke swallow the lump of guilt in her throat - once Raven glared at her, it settled at her heart like a stone. She truly hated herself for a moment, but shook it off, eyes focused straight ahead as she considered not replying. However, she realized that that was one of the many things she owed to her friends: The truth.

Biting her lower lip, Clarke managed to breathe out: “I’m getting married. To a man, who found and brought me food for nine months until bringing me back to his village,” expectantly, Raven’s eyes widened only to narrow seconds later as she turned around to face Clarke.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again within a beat, refusing to say anything, which in a lot of uncertain ways hurt Clarke, who mostly stayed quiet while Raven showed her to the hospital area where her mother was working an afternoon shift.

 

Not approaching Abby though, Clarke felt like there was indeed something else that she needed to take care of first, turning around to walk out, hoping nobody had seen her, “Where’s Bellamy?” She whispered, the name sounding foreign on her lips (she had not spoken it for five years). The girl looked down at her feet long enough for Clarke to be hit by a wave of fear: _What if he’s dead? What if he’s gone and I wasn’t here?_ “He isn’t---?“ She started, trailing off, her words blending into Raven’s hesitant response: “I’ll take you to him,”

~*~

Turns out, over the years of her living in a rather small village, Camp Jaha had grown to extend all the way to the lake; its surface clear and baby blue. Amazingly, that was where his cabin was, overlooking the beautiful scenery. Stunned, Clarke moved closer, barely taking her eyes off the wooden house: _this must’ve taken forever to build._ She did not remember Bellamy as being a man, who wanted to spend decades on projects he found unimportant, and a perfectionist had made this down to the last detail.

“That stubborn ass spent forever building this. Wait till you see the interior,” 

“Interior?” Clarke asked - since when had they had other furniture here than shitty makeshift beds? Then, she remembered that a whole lot could happen in five years: Well, just look at her, transformed into a Grounder - as much a hunter as warrior now, who had dried the paint off of her face to not scare anyone.

Carefully, she walked up the few steps leading to the front porch: a freaking porch! Bellamy had not been a carpenter for God’s sake - he only had a past as a janitor! How had he been able to do all this alone? Raven said that he was still as stubborn as always, so hopefully he hadn’t changed a lot, which was going to make meeting him easier in spite of everything.

“I don’t think he’s home,” Raven admitted just when Clarke was about to press a hand to the door knob, her heart beating in her throat, and her fingers were abruptly left there to hover in mid air, nervously shaking, “I have to go back. They need me at The Mechanic Bay, but you can look around, after all Bellamy-“ Rapidly, she cut herself off there, not bothering to even continue the sentence. 

“What about Bellamy?” Clarke tried, quirking up an eyebrow at the sudden, strange feeling in her gut that she couldn’t quite identify.

“Nothing. It’s not my thing to say,”

 

For a minute, Clarke watched her leave until finally opening the door and stepping into what seemed to be a small living/dining room: an old couch from a bunker placed against one of the walls, covered in animal furs and pillows to make it look nicer - a dining table with chairs, which she guessed that he must have made himself too. Although that was about all of the furniture in this room, she found it to be enough: weirdly, it was completely, wonderfully simple…

Such a complex guy living in a home like this? In a way it didn’t make sense, but in another it was not impossible either.

She instantly couldn’t stop herself from gazing around, her eyes flickering across every little bump in the walls or the floor. The air in here was thick, carrying memories that she was not keen to think of. Still with careful steps she walked into another room, slightly flustered at the view of a real bed, blankets and everything. Invading this space was just like barging into a part of his life that she was not welcome to: _Realize it, Clarke. He’s in your past, same as the entire camp._

But a picture hanging on the wall caught her attention because it reminded her of her present. Inching closer, she recognized the drawing and reached out to trace the pictured sky speckled with stars. A lump grew in her throat once her fingertips found what they were searching for: the _C.G_ at the left corner.

“You left your sketchbook here,” the voice nearly startled her, so horribly familiar that it evoke millions of burning memories at the back of her mind, the ones she had been trying to forget, too. She never thought she would hear it again - ever.

Fighting back unexpected emotion, Clarke twisted her head, catching sight of Bellamy’s face, which she found as barely changed, and that fact pinched painfully at her heart: same eyes and the charming sparks within them, always furrowed eyebrows complimented by the shadow of a smile, “I see,” she breathed, forcing a smile of her own.

To that he replied with nothing more than a tiny shake of his head, which she was not sure of what meant, if it actually meant something that was.

“You build this?” She questioned, gesturing around the room using her eyes - although she already knew the answer - since she did not want their first conversation in years to drift somewhere awkward. In other words: _she cared…_  

“From the ground up…with a little assistance from Kane and Miller. Took a year, not counting the interior work,” upon seconds of eye contact, Clarke was met by the need to tear her gaze from his. But she couldn’t, which frustrated her endlessly. 

“Well, it’s beautiful,”

“Yeah, I’ve seen more beautiful things in my life though,” Bellamy murmured, his tone of voice having a bitter edge, which should confuse her - still, it didn’t really. While saying that, he stared into her ocean blue eyes (another memory…) as if he abruptly had forgotten how to blink.

 

  _Oh…_

Years ago, silence was a common thing between them, however this time it was ~~intense~~ awkward unlike anything Clarke had experienced before until the view of a pin on his jacket caused her to break it, mind in awe and her feet moving forward by themselves, narrowing the space between them, so that her hands could grab at the item, “are you the chancellor?” _No, he would never…_

“No,” he cleared his throat, “member of the council. Appointed delegate for the delinquents,” at that, her eyes flickered to his, and she became aware of how close they were, but feeling somewhat ashamed surprisingly didn’t make her step back. Instead, she continued, puzzled: “I thought you hated council members,”

“I do - I mean, I did. Yet I had to keep a promise; had to take care of them, and the only way I could do that was by signing up for a spot,”

“Bellamy…”

“Clarke, you need to leave. Don’t you have a fiancé waiting for you?” To her devastation she realized that he wanted to push her away. There were so many different layers to his tone of voice, and she couldn’t uncover half of them, but the most outstanding was forever the softness she recalled. Seconds later, he shut down, returning her gaze blankly. 

“Who told you?”

“Raven,” Bellamy countered matter-of-factly, and she felt his breath on her skin as he breathed out the name - this sent shivers down her spine. 

“I should have figured,” in spite of that, she couldn’t help but to feel hurt: none of it should matter anymore. Returning here was a horrible idea - why hadn’t that been obvious to her from the second she had gotten it? To them, she was long gone… A Grounder. Someone, who had chosen to leave selfishly to live her happy life without them. Before coming here, she had deeply hoped that they would understand; yet now she found it ludicrous to expect that of them, especially Bellamy… What was she supposed to do? The decision was made long ago, which meant that it was too late to make up for it.

Biting her lower lip, she took the first step towards the door, feeling his hand wrap around her wrist a moment later: “Clarke, you can stay. I’m not the chancellor, but you should consider seeing your mom,” nodding, she spent the next few seconds shamefully looking into his eyes, trying not to drown in that mixed with the touch of his hand, pictured how it would be to say: _I missed you,_ however didn’t go further.

 

~*~

She didn’t see her mother, not yet anyway. Instead, found herself by the fire, watching the flames play in the wind, small sparks flying and reflecting in her absent eyes - at the corner of them she discovered a silhouette of a person approaching - _Prepare yourself, Clarke._ As it came closer, she could easily tell exactly who it was: dark chocolate brown hair, blue eyes all paired with the frown of her brother.

With just a nod, she joined her. Unlike what she had thought, Octavia did not waste much time on awkward silence, turning her head in order to get straight to the point: “You didn’t come here to see your mother, did you, Clarke? I’m sorry, Princess, but you’re not fooling anyone,” 

To hide her wincing at the sound of her old nickname, Clarke adverted her eyes and finally let go of a raspy breath, refusing to return the gaze waiting on her with guilt making its way to her throat, drying it out. Reluctantly, she pushed the thought of lying to the side. 

“Why?” Octavia asked, the anger being more clear within her voice than in both Raven and Bellamy’s - if a person was going to give her what she deserved, it would be her: No doubt about it.

“I dreamt of him… Four days after my engagement. I didn’t know what it meant, so I decided that maybe it was time to take a look back,”

“You made a huge mistake, Clarke. Where were you the five years that my brother waited for you? And then suddenly you show up, out of the blue, engaged to another man,” 

The words shocked her more than they should, and she could no longer keep her eyes away, turning them to see the emotion in Octavia’s. Even though Clarke hated the thought of it, she uncovered just how true every syllable upon the sister’s lips was, also when she continued: “He never spoke a word about you. Not once, refused when others brought you up. But with time, with the years, it became clear as day that you were-- that the lone thing keeping him going was the dream that one day you would come back home. Only then would all his effort have full meaning, because he kept your promise; stayed faithful to nothing but the memory of you _for five years,_ ” 

Clarke didn’t know what to say, that way allowing Octavia to add what at last, broke her: “You know what? Bellamy built that cabin for _you._ When we went to see it once it was finally finished, it had _Clarke_ written all over it,” the former leader just shook her head violently, refusing to believe it, “Hey! Are you blind? He _loved_ you,”

“He did not,” croaking that out, Clarke tried to convince no other than herself, tears burning in her eyes, teeth gritted persistently.

“He did,”

“If he did then why on Earth didn’t he-?!” Instantly, she decided to choke back the rest of the words: _… Look for me? Why didn’t he look for me?_ “-Nothing,” she licked her lips, uncomfortable. 

Upon having an eyebrow arched in her direction, Octavia showed no form of mercy (which was plausible to some degree), officially revealing what was the reason to this rant to begin with: “I’m asking you to make up your mind, because you being here will simply break him even more. And if you’re gonna leave, then _please_ do it quick, for his sake,”   

Not knowing whether or not a reply was needed, Clarke turned her attention to the ring on her left hand: made of wood and a pretty, gray stone at the center. Feeling Octavia stare while she fidgeted with it made her want to scream desperately, angrily - _Why did you have to tell me that? Why?!_  

“Do you love him? Your fiancé?” Octavia’s voice was weirdly softer now, nearly careful.

“He’s a good man. He supports me, and-“ 

“But do you _love_ him?” 

Just as Clarke began to become annoyed, her head aching from overthinking and confusion, a well known voice broke through the night air, catching Octavia’s attention faster than the wind caught flames: “Enough, O,”

After saying that, he chose to focus on Clarke, who compared his eyes to magnets, attracting her own in a way that they most definitely shouldn’t, “the thing is Clarke, I have a small, shitty boat. Fancy a row?”

 

~*~

On the night sky as drawn at the framed picture in Bellamy’s house, were stars speckled in constellations like the small freckles across his cheeks, once they went to the boat, which was not very shitty when you took the fact that it was handmade to account, yet it was small, their knees touching. He rowed off the coast, and suddenly Clarke was torn between wanting to look at the sky - its stars having been covered by heavy clouds already - or the grin on his face, which she had nearly forgotten, “Dylan? How did he happen?”

“A couple of months after the battle at Mount Weather, something apparently caused Raven’s implant to fail - your mother is still stubbornly trying to figure out what - and she got pregnant. Can you imagine her with those hormones? It was some amazing nine months,” 

“I can imagine,” suddenly, she was grinning for the first time since walking through the gate, bending down to admire the reflection of her facial expression on the surface of the lake, feeling a drop of cold water hitting her the back of her neck. And another: heavy raindrops! Before she could even think of containing herself, Clarke raised her arms above her head, loving the sensation of the water drizzling down her skin to Bellamy’s lighthearted chuckling growing slowly to a deep laughter. Leaning back, the rain washed her face from guilt until she was not capable of holding back a relieved moan. 

“Wanna go back in, Clarke?” You could clearly hear his smile through the words, expecting her reply: “Never!” But Bellamy Blake was a party-pooper, rowing the boat in towards the cabin again, and once Clarke was standing to watch him tie it to a pole in the ground, she was hit by a sudden need to know the truth: why the hell Bellamy Blake, the man who had (almost) always been completely faithful to her had not even bothered caring once she went away: “Why didn’t you look for me? Why?! I waited for you for five years! For you to come and tell me that it was okay to come back: that nobody hated me! That was everything I needed and now it’s too late!”

Eyes widening, he walked all the way to her, but she was too frustrated to notice that their noses were nearly touching, “I looked for you every day for a year. It wasn’t too late for me,” at his murmured reply, her heart fluttered, waking her up, and she could feel everything: the rain soaking her clothes, her hair sticking to her face, his words brushing against her lips, “It still isn’t too late,” the last word drowned out when he pressed his mouth firmly against hers, leading it to where it fit perfectly. Like they also would have in any similar case, the alarms in Clarke’s mind went off, beeping loudly and dangerously, yet were soon overpowered by the feeling of his arms sweeping around her waist in synch with how his lips moved against her own. 

One of his hands clutched at the heavy fabric of her rain-soaked shirt while the other swiftly got tangled within the wet, unbrushed waves of her hair. Hungry for more of the passion, Clarke responded by gripping at his back, her toes curling at the way she could feel his skin through the thin material. 

Somehow she ended up latched on his hips, carried merely by his incredible strength that she had not paid much attention to before, but right in that moment, it meant everything - Unaware, Clarke begun wiping away thoughts until there was nothing in the world but him: Bellamy kissing her, Bellamy touching her, Bellamy carrying her to the cabin: _Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy…_

The first thing he did upon managing to get them both inside, was to slam her back against the wall, causing a gasp to rip from her throat, which he started to trail kisses on afterwards as an apology, occasionally teasing the skin by sucking and nipping it with his teeth until it grew more sensitive than she thought was possible. Really, he was driving her crazy, and with fumbling hands she finally succeeded in pulling his shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the floor while Bellamy continued at his own pace.

His skin was cold, and so was hers, but whilst touching, both of their bodies were on fire, burning with words that they yet couldn’t get themselves to say - the memories of past meaningful ones _(“I can’t lose you too, okay?”  “Together...”)._ And honestly, his lips were so perfect that she was left wondering why the hell she had not done something to figure it out before, having had the chance more times than she would like to admit.

Not until she was on his bed, feeling his hands slowly pull her pants off of her legs, she realized what she was doing, and who this man actually was: the same man, who had almost dropped her in a Grounder trap purpose, who had seen her as nothing but a privileged princess for weeks - who had saved her life from Dax, from Anya, from furious Grounders - who had let her go - that was the same man as the one, who now loved her.

It was nothing like a picture perfect love sequence filled with roses and sweet words. No, instead it was raw passion; anger and loss burning _(“Why did you leave me? We could have been, oh we could have been…”)_ between them for the first minutes, but then she rose to her knees, commanding him to do the same, looking deeply into his eyes, and all that seemed to drift from away, “Clarke...”

Instinctively, she cupped his face: “I’m here now,” she reassured, soon feeling his hands and the tip of his tongue trace over her shoulder and collarbone to clarify.

When he pushed into her again, it was fueled by the secret that Octavia had spilled for him earlier: that he loved her. And in that very moment, she loved him too…

 

~*~

Light beaming through the windows right at her face was what woke her up, smiling widely before opening her eyes to slight the slight disappointment of an empty pillow next to her, except from a note:

 

_You looked so beautiful that I couldn’t bear having to wake you up._

_Had to go to a meeting this morning - your mother_

_isn’t going to be there. Maybe you should go talk to her for real now._

-       _Bellamy_

Grumpily, she once more came to discuss with herself whether or not that was a sensible thing to do, considering the fact that Abby would most likely not even try to understand anything she had done, not with George nor Bellamy.

But tearing everything else down, was what truly mattered: that Clarke hadn’t seen her mother in years, and all girls needed their mother at times to guide them towards the right road when they seem incapable of doing so alone.

 

However, Clarke didn’t have go further than to the porch to be met by no other than Abby Griffin, whose facial expression was marked with everything except surprise: the whole camp knew that she had returned for a few days, yet different rumors still circled around as to why. Apparently, her mother had heard the only true one: “Are you sure you want to get married, Sweetie?” Emotion was drawn thickly in her eyes as she embraced her daughter tightly. It wasn’t like Abby to not interfere in such situations; in fact, normally she would have never allowed her daughter to marry a Grounder.

“Why are you asking me that?” 

“Because I trust you to make the right decision. Yet lets be honest, you wouldn’t be here now if that man could make you crazily happy,” maybe, there was indeed something about that. The thing was just that over the events of the last couple of hours, Clarke’s mind had been turned around completely, her thoughts and ideas formerly so certain and organized had become a mess. 

She was a mess, “Mom,” and for the first time in forever, Clarke Griffin broke down, crying, suddenly feeling her Grounder image crumbling: _weak at heart…_ “He won’t take me back after what I did,”

 

~*~

When Bellamy went to her again, she was overlooking the lake, a reflective expression on her face that caused him to carefully ask, once he was standing by her side: “What are you gonna do, Clarke?” It reminded her painfully of that last question he had asked her right before she had turned her back on him all of those years ago, deciding not to come back: _Where are you gonna go?_

“I don’t know,” to her horror, Bellamy seemed to pick up on it, too, his eyes like magnets again: a force, she could not pull away from, “Are we really back to that?” She turned around to face him, determined to let him know what this was all about; that this was just another one of her tough choices, but he continued instead: “What about the last couple of days? They happened, you know. Can’t run from that,”

Sighing, Clarke met his eyes fully, watching time flash five years back to that desperate dark gaze, begging her to come back inside. Therefore, she had to pull herself together in order to reply, squeezing her own eyes shut for a moment, hoping that it would in the end, make it easier: Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

“I know that they happened-- and they were wonderful, but they were also very irresponsible,” as he at that with a exasperated groan tried to walk away, she grabbed his arm, hard, “Bellamy listen please! I have a fiancé waiting for me: a fiancé who’s gonna be crushed when he finds out what I did-“ 

“So you make love to me, and then you go back to your husband?! Was that your plan? A test that I didn’t pass?” For a beat, his anger caused her to blink before it wore off on her: “I made a promise to man: he gave me a ring, and I gave him my word!” 

“This is not about keeping your promise, and it’s not about following your heart! It’s about denial,” 

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” There was fire in her eyes, yet it didn’t scare him: never had done anything except trigger or amaze him, because he himself was the volcano about to erupt, which they both knew. He couldn’t bear to lose her again; wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

“It means that by going back to him you don’t have to face any of it: any of the mistakes that you’ve made, the people you have killed and the people you saved - our people, Clarke - You’re scared, and you’re in denial! I see right through you!” Following that, a moment passed where there was nothing but his chest heaving, reflecting her broken eyes as her face finally fell. She had to flee before it was too late.

“Bye, Bellamy,” 

Still, he was not going to give up - therefore, she wasn’t prepared for him following her back to the middle of camp where her horse was waiting, his next words ripping through the air: “You’re bored! You’re bored, and you know it! You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something missing!”

Completely done with his shit, Clarke twisted her head around quick to spurt out: “You arrogant jerk, Bellamy!” Surprising her once more, he reached out for her arm, spinning her around so that their eyes met.

“Will you please just stay with me?”

“Stay with you?! What for? Look at us! We’re fighting. It’s like being back to square one. I-“

“That’s what we’ll do then. We’ll fight! You’re gonna tell me when I’m being an arrogant jerk and I will tell you when you’re being a princessy pain in the ass!” Bitterly, Clarke felt unwanted tears burning within her eyes, still unable to not look into his flaming gaze. 

“So what?”

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard, and we’re gonna have to work at this -- trust issue everyday, but I wanna do that, because I want you! I want all of you, forever-“ watching as the first sob hitched in her throat, he paused for a second, stopping in his tracks to wait for her full attention, “- You and me, everyday… Will you do something for me? Just picture your life: ten years from now; twenty years from now - What does it look like? If it’s with him then go. Go! I lost you a million times before, I think I can do it again if I thought that was what you really wanted. But don’t take the easy way out-“ 

Voice full of tears, Clarke finally gained the strength to respond: “What easy way? There is no easy way out. No matter what I do somebody gets hurt,”

“Will you stop thinking about what everyone wants? What I want, what he wants, what your mom wants - What do you want?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“What. Do you. Want?”

Painful moments passed by, the intense feeling of at least fifty pairs of eyes on both of them, but the atmosphere was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, and lastly Clarke bit her lower lip, struggling to keep the tears from spilling as she said: “I have to go,” and for a long, heart-wrenching time, Bellamy watched her in slight disbelief until you could literally see his hope falling apart - that was when Clarke grabbed a hold of her horse’s reins, ready to pull herself up and leave him for what he thought was good.

“I love you,” was his final try as he looked at her turning her attention towards the woods. 

No less than every word broken, she replied: “You’re a bit too late on that, don’t you think?”

 

Yes…

All he thought was: _five years…_

~*~

 

On the second night after the fight, Bellamy Blake dreamt about Clarke - or at least, he initially thought that it was a dream: a warrior with golden hair and stormy blue eyes walking further and further into his sight, every step that she took caused his heart rate to double. Suddenly, her silhouette was so vivid, so authentic that he nearly asked Miller to slap him, just to see if it was real - if _she_ was real. 

Clarke picked up pace, running as fast as her legs could carry her, not even hesitating to go through the gate, heading straight for his chest. When did he know that he was awake?

“You here to stay now?” 

Too tired to respond with words, she simply nodded against the blanket, which Bellamy had wrapped around both of them before he smiled into her hair, feeling lighter than the air they were breathing.

“Took you long enough,”


End file.
